A Whole New Year
by northernexposure
Summary: What you'd expect for New Year! H/R fluff
1. Chapter 1

A Whole New Year

A/N - inspired by the fact that I am sitting in a pub, drinking red wine (quite a lot), because there is no heating or hot water in our flat and I'm fekking freezing. Plus I'm totally obsessed by Harry and Ruth. Plus my fiancee is such a sweetheart that for one of my xmas presents he found 'Baghdad' and printed it up on Lulu (he's not allowed to read any of my fic, as he edits real books for a living, by real writers), with a cover and an ISBN and everything, to convince me that even if I just write fanfic, I _am_ a writer, and what better end to a year could I hope for than that?

A/N pt 2 - I love Harry/Ruth shippers. They seem to be inclusive, rather than exclusionary, and gracious, rather than possessive. Which cannot be said about some other pairings. Happy New Year everyone, and long may it last.

* * *

**December 31st 2009, 7pm**

She'd survived Christmas, and that was no small thing, as far as Ruth was concerned. This wasn't what she'd been planning for Christmas 2009 - life alone again, in a dank flat in South East London, courtesy of Her Majesty's Government. She'd expected to be in Cyprus, with George and Nico. Sure, it would have been strange, a hot Christmas, but she'd had stranger. And it would have been hers, with people whom she loved and who loved her, at least, even if they weren't real family, even if her real family thought she was dead, and her real friends could never acknowledge her.

She'd tried to call Nico, but his aunt wouldn't let her speak to him. She'd cried at that, alone in her undecorated "safe house", feeling anything but safe, feeling anything but loved. Christmas without children, once you had had them, was impossibly empty. And when you were alone...

But she'd survived, and she was proud of herself for that. Ruth Evershed, resurgam. Ruth Evershed, back where she was never sure she had belonged in the first place.

Thames House, even, was different. A paperless office, all hard screens and bright lights. If she wanted to scrawl on paper she had to request a notebook specially, which was delivered by someone she didn't know, having been authorised by someone she didn't know. And there was Tariq, so young, so bright, so... unspoiled. But Adam was gone, and Jo was gone, and Malcolm was gone, and even though Ros was still there they were diminished, less than the sum of their parts. And even though Harry was there, she edited herself when she thought about him, she hid from him, even in her dreams.

But she had survived Christmas, and that was no small thing... even if her boiler hadn't lasted quite so long. She'd returned home from the Grid one night to a frigid house, and had not been able to coax her radiators back to life. Living without heat and hot water in the middle of winter was a hard thing from which to extract joy, and so here Ruth was, at 7pm on New Year's Eve, ensconced at her desk at Thames House, working. Because work always soothed so much: the heart, the head, the mind, the soul.

The Grid was empty, dark. She was used to it, of course - in fact, this was the only thing that convinced her that nothing much had changed, despite the momentum of the universe. She came in early, she left late, she was the first in, she was the last out. Harry was the second in, the second-to-last out, but unlike everything that had come before, that part of their relationship had changed forever. She no longer took him coffee, knowing it was the first thing he would partake of in the day. He no longer stopped by her desk before he shrugged off his coat, to pass the time, to enquire of the day. He was careful, and she was guilty, and between them they kept their distance, damaged, in pain, and yet essentially unchanged.

Sighing, Ruth swept away these thoughts, checked the time, and resolved the begin the new year ahead of her self-set quota. Clearing her thoughts, she tapped at her keyboard, bringing up the latest chatter stream from a cell in Streatham.

* * *

"Say that again?" Harry put down his glass, pushing the receiver closer to his ear. It was New Year's Eve, and he was intent on his customary festive ritual: trying each of his precious single malts in turn, beginning with Macallan Elegancia and working through the Speysides and other Highlands until he reached the Islas, culminating in the mighty Laphroig. Or perhaps the Ardbeg would win first place this year, he wasn't sure.

He listened to the voice on the other end of the telephone, calling directly from Thames House housekeeping. They called it that, anyway - the Powers That Be had another name for that particular department, which escaped Harry after several tasters from his private bar. Either way, someone was calling him to talk to him about something that was going on in Section D headquarters.

_"Ruth Evershed has been at her desk for the past four hours," _repeated the voice. _"And we're sorry to bother you, Sir Pearce, but you said-"_

"I said I was to be notified of any out-of-hours work during this festive period," Harry said, dully. "Thank you."

He replaced the receiver, carefully, and picked up his glass again. He hadn't expected to be interrupted by Ruth. He'd thought – actually, he hadn't thought, or rather had deliberately tried not to think, about what she would be doing over Christmas and the dead days between the festive days and New Year.

"Oh Ruth," he muttered into his glass, "Oh, Ruth..."

He finished his dram of Glenlivet 18, the one that's known as Christmas cake, before picking up the telephone again. This time, he called his driver. Alan was already on duty, he knew, and so his guilt at calling was very slightly lessened as the man answered the call.

"I need a car, Alan. To Thames House," he listened, again, briefly, as Alan offered his considered East London opinion.

"I know. I know. But... It's Miss Evershed, Alan, and..."

The line went dead, and Harry knew he had three minutes before Alan - and his car - would be waiting for him outside.

[END]


	2. Chapter 2

A Whole New Year pt 2

A/N: OK, so I re-read what I wrote while under the influence of a considerable amount of red wine yesterday, and realised I had absolutely no idea where this was supposed to be going. Do'h. Never write drunk, is the motto of that story. I also realised that once again I'd posted with loads of spelling mistakes, because I'm a moron. Will repost.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! May 2010 bring us all the Harry/Ruth ship we can handle!!! xxx

* * *

Ruth looked up and slid off her earphones as someone stepped onto the grid.

"Harry."

"Ruth," he said in return, keeping his coat on as he approached her desk.

She glanced at her watch with a frown. "What are you doing here?"

"I could well ask you the same question," he said as he drew to a stop in front of her. "As for me - I have eyes everywhere, Ruth, you should know that by now."

Ruth couldn't help smiling, but she looked down at her fingers as she did so, avoiding his eyes. "I just thought I'd catch up on some chatter while it's quiet."

Harry glanced around the darkened room. "Well, it certainly is that. And do you know why it's so quiet, Ruth? Because it's New Year's Eve, and everyone else is out celebrating rather than working for a change. As you should be."

Ruth shook her head. "I suppose I just don't really feel as if much has happened over this year that's worth celebrating," she said, softly.

Harry stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded. "I can understand that. Of course I can. But - Ruth, even you need a rest every now and then. As amazing as your brain is, it needs down time to recharge. Now's the time for that. Who knows what we'll have to face come the new year."

Ruth sighed. "You're right. But my place is so cold, I really just wanted to be somewhere warm. And I hate the thought of being in a pub for the Night Of A Thousand Lips," she shuddered. "Come twelve o'clock it's like a Hammer film gone utterly wrong."

Harry perched on the edge of her desk with a frown. "What do you mean, your place is so cold?"

She shrugged. "The boiler broke down last week. They've been trying to fix it, but they've now decided that they'll have to fit a new one. Which they can't do until Monday. It's a busy time of year for plumbers, I imagine."

Harry looked horrified. "You've had no heat or hot water for a week? Ruth, why on earth didn't you tell me?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "There was no need, Harry. There was nothing you could have done. And even if there had been, I didn't want it to seem as if I was getting my boss to step in and help me. MI-5 safe houses aren't at the top of the government's priority, I'm sure."

His face blanched white for a moment. "Ruth - you're still in a _safe house_?"

"Yes... I just haven't had time to find somewhere of my own." She looked down at her hands again. "To tell you the truth, Harry, it's hard to find the inclination to start again from scratch. The thought of finding somewhere... and then having to kit it out top to bottom, when it's just me, I just - " she broke off, wondering where the sudden urge to spout all of this had come from. It was likely the very last thing Harry wanted to hear about. He was still sitting on the edge of her desk, silent, but she didn't really want to meet his eye and read what he was thinking.

* * *

Harry stared down at Ruth, his heart beating to a sickened rhythm. How had he not noticed this? How had he not seen that she was living in limbo - and worse, for the last week at least, in cold and miserable circumstances? This was _Ruth_, for god's sake, how had it passed him by?

But of course, in truth he knew the answer without having to search for it. He'd missed it because ever since she had returned to the office, Harry had purposefully not allowed himself to think too deeply on the subject of Ruth Evershed. He'd created a mental block around her in his mind, he'd kept his distance on the grid. It was self-preservation, you see. Because...

He sighed, and the sound made her finally look up at him. He shook his head, sadly. "Oh, Ruth. I've let you down again, haven't I?"

She frowned, puzzled. "Let me down? What do you mean?"

"I should have been paying more attention," he said, standing.

"To what? To me? No, Harry, don't be-"

He held out a hand to her. "Come on. Let's get out of here. The Grid is no place to start a new year."

"Harry-"

"Ruth," he replied, firmly. "Please. Trust me. You used to once, didn't you?"

She stared up at him. "Yes. I did - I do, Harry. I still do."

"Then let's go and see in the New Year together. And then the service will pay for a hotel room for you to stay in until the bloody boiler is fixed. And first thing on Monday, I'll help you start looking for somewhere decent to live."

He was relieved to see her smile slightly as she stood. "I think that's over and above the call of duty, Harry."

"It's not about duty, Ruth. It's about looking after those we - our friends." It was his turn to drop her gaze. "If we don't do that, what's the point?"

She moved around her desk to stand in front of him, and she was smiling. "You're right. Thank you, Harry."

He shook his head. "Don't thank me. It's the least I can do after everything you've been through. Next year will be better, Ruth. I promise."

Ruth shook her head. "That's a dangerous promise to make, Harry."

He nodded. "True. Well then, I promise that I will do whatever is in my power to make 2010 better for you than 2009 was."

She smiled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "You're still a good man, Harry. I'm so glad that not everything has changed."

Harry was struck by a sudden idea. "Get your coat on," he ordered, "I just need to get something..."

He moved swiftly to his office, pulling open the lower drawer in his desk. He sat for a moment, staring at the object, coiled in the corner, before lifting it out and holding it up. He used to look at this often when she was gone, running it through his fingers like a tangible piece of her that was now his and his alone. He sighed, the memories of those painful, empty days when the ghost of her face would haunt him in the corners of his vision still difficult, if fading. But she was back now. She was here, and he realised that whatever their future held, they would always be connected. And he thought, perhaps, that Ruth knew that too.

He shut the drawer and exited his office, seeing Ruth waiting expectantly by the exit. She raised an eyebrow as he approached, and Harry couldn't help but think how beautiful she looked, wrapped up in her heavy coat and a bright red scarf and hat.

"Ready?" She asked.

"Yes - but first, I have something for you."

"Oh?"

"Hold out your hand." Ruth did as she was told, pulling off one glove as she did so. "I don't even know if you'll remember this," he said, "but maybe it's one thing that you won't have to start over from scratch with."

He held up the necklace, her necklace, the one he had appropriated from her house as they'd packed it after her death. The one he had so many memories of her wearing. Harry heard Ruth's sharp intake of breath as he dropped it, slowly, into her palm.

"Oh my god," she laughed, "I used to love this necklace!"

"I remember," smiled Harry.

"It's not worth anything, you know," Ruth said, holding it up and running one finger of the other hand along its length.

"It was to me," Harry said, softly. "For a while, it was everything."

Ruth looked up at him, her eyes full of tears. "Thank you. Thank you, Harry. I don't-"

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head. "Thank _you_, Ruth. Thank you for coming home."

They stood like that for a few moments, before Harry gently let her go. "Well now," he said. "Let's see if we can find somewhere that isn't crammed to the rafters, somewhere that can serve us dinner in time for us to make it back to the South Bank for the fireworks. What do you think - Italian?"

Ruth nodded, holding up the necklace and turning her back to him. "Can you do this up for me, first?"

As they left Thames House, they were greeted by the first flurry of a New Year snow fall. And with three hours left until the start of a fresh decade, it seemed to both of them that they had entered a new era all of their own.

[END]


End file.
